


Off The Record

by Yashitsu



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aftercare, BDSM, Belting, Blindfolds, Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 00:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21226883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yashitsu/pseuds/Yashitsu
Summary: The Archivist's endless desires won't let Jon rest. Elias has an unorthodox solution.





	Off The Record

**Author's Note:**

> Please respect my boundaries by not reading this fic if you are under 18.
> 
> This is entirely consensual and they have a safeword on top of the whole mind reading thing, but Jon thinks and says things like "no" and "I can't" instinctively in response to the pain, so please read with caution.

Even blindfolded, Jon still Sees. It's exhausting, the demands of The Archivist wrack Jon's body and mind until there's nothing left to give the Eye, and even then, they don't stop. Jon can't turn it off. That's why he's here in the first place. He notes Elias' desk, the feeling of the hard surface pressed against his chest, the smooth texture of the wood under his fingertips. He takes in the pressure of the blindfold on his closed eyes. He listens to Elias' breathing, just slightly more labored than usual. And of course, he notices Elias' belt.

The first strike lands heavily on Jon's bare upper thighs. It hurts, quite plainly. There's no real attempt at warmup in it. He counts out a 'one' under his breath. Elias hasn't told him to, but The Archivist wants to know how many he's been given. The blows keep falling on his thighs and buttocks, and he counts each one, noting the position, the intensity of the sting, the interval between hits, the noises he makes in response, the ache beginning to build up. Collecting every detail. Archiving them. Jon doesn't want to, but he can't stop. It hurts, oh, does it hurt, but it's not yet enough to override his instincts. He's at sixteen when he feels Elias' strikes jump up significantly in intensity. Eighteen lands where his buttocks meet his thighs, and Jon shouts in pain instead of counting out loud. The count continues in his head, though, nineteen--_shit_\--twenty--_oh_\--twenty-one-- _ah, no, hurts, hurts, hurts, I can't, Elias, twenty--_ what number is it now? Jon can't bring himself to even try anymore. It's finally too much, it's finally enough. The pain drowns out everything else, burning away Jon's thoughts in white-hot agony. He isn't thinking anymore, just feeling, riding the waves instinctively. He clutches at the edges of the desk, babbling incoherently. He doesn't even know what he's saying, but his mind is a constant litany of _no, can't, please, **Elias,**_ and Elias can hear that just as well.

Finally, Elias stops. He lets his belt fall to the floor, the sound signaling to Jon that it's over. As Jon comes back to himself, he realizes that he's crying, the now-wet fabric of the blindfold clinging to his face. Elias shushes him and Jon starts sobbing harder. He lets himself cry as Elias gently cards a hand through his hair. Once Jon catches his breath, Elias grabs him by the shirt collar and hauls him to his feet, his hands rough and steady. Jon's legs shake horribly, and he's relieved when Elias guides Jon to his desk chair and sits him down on the floor beside it. Jon slumps, exhausted and relaxed, half sitting, half kneeling. Elias starts petting Jon's head again.

"You did wonderful, Jon," Elias says, and Jon nearly starts crying anew. "I'll be right back." Jon can't help but feel bereft at the loss of Elias' touch, temporary as it is. Elias does indeed return very quickly, handing Jon something. A water bottle, by the feel of it. Jon opens it and drinks, grateful for both the water and how Elias has made no move to take the blindfold off. Elias sits down in the chair next to Jon and resumes caressing him, stroking his hair and neck, cradling Jon's chin in his hand. Jon doesn't need to see to know Elias is looking at him. He can imagine the familiar warmth in Elias' gaze as he brushes a thumb over Jon's scars. Jon simply leans into the touch, content, his mind blissfully quiet. Jon hears the rustle of paper, signaling Elias' return to his work, but one of his hands keeps gently fiddling with Jon's hair. They stay like that for a long while, and for once, Jon is at peace.


End file.
